Next Time Baby, I'll Be Bulletproof
by xheartoflifex
Summary: "How do you do it, man? You're perfect in, like, every way possible..." Well, it has been said that jealousy in the most sincere form of flattery. For Finn and Sam, this must be some damn sincere flattery... .:finn/sam:.


**Before you read this, I feel like I need to write something about why I wrote this (apart from the prompt on glee_kink). After rewatching the entirety of season 1 and front half season 2, I've come to the conclusion that both Rachel and Quinn are horrible girlfriends. I feel Quinn's gotten better, but in all honesty, I believe that Finchel is an emotionally abusive relationship - with Finn taking the brunt of it. And because it would go against the show's canon and blahblahblah for him to _actually stand up for himself _and_ not take Rachel back_, I feel that both Finn and Sam are kindred spirits. They both have a lot of issues, they're both very driven to perfection, and I think they're both in these type of emotionally-abusive relationship in which the women wear the pants (and not in a good way).**

**So that was my little rant. As I've come to conclude, Finn is my favorite character, because I oftentimes feel like no one actually loves him. If you look at Finchel, the relationship began off the fact that Finn happened to be the most talented singer that Rachel saw (not to mention he was popular). Replace him in the 'original glee club' with anyone else (Puck, MikeChang, MattRutherford), and she would've fallen for them just the same...**

**The end. Enjoy the dark twisted fruitfulness that is my mind.

* * *

**

_harderbetterfasterstronger._

_must. be. perfection._

_Perfection._

_Perfection._

_Perfection…_

The buzz of the belt on the treadmill mixed with his feet slapping in a rhythmical pattern slowly dissolved together with his thoughts. It was an ugly sound; making him grit his teeth, dig his nails into the handles, want to run faster. Because everyone's counting on him to _be_ perfection. The perfect quarterback, the perfect performer, the perfect son, the perfect step-brother, everything… hell, he even was expected to be the perfect boyfriend before both of them shot their relationships to hell.

Whoever made the unspoken law that break-ups were supposed to be easy on guys must not have been through two in less than a year. Because as the days after Sectionals slowly passed by, as Christmas passed behind him, as he watched Rachel forget about him like he had been nothing and move on – he had to admit, this was anything _except _easy.

Maybe he was nothing. He jammed his finger against the button on the treadmill, jacking up the speed.

Every day that he saw Rachel now - watched her look upon him with some disapproving glare - it left him feeling like maybe he was the one who had done something wrong. Maybe he shouldn't have reacted so harshly. Maybe he should've have forgiven her. Maybe he overreacted… Even as he began to let his mind wander to that place of _maybe_ and _what if_, he heard Kurt's voice chastise him to not blame himself. Problems between them or not, Kurt was one of the few people Finn knew would always be there for him. He had even come home for a weekend from Dalton to spend time with Finn after he'd heard that the drama had exploded.

But what if Kurt had been wrong? There had to be something wrong with him. He couldn't keep his girlfriends from cheating on him. He was driving them away somehow…

It wasn't his personality, because he wouldn't have been the most popular guy in school. It wasn't his looks, because Quinn had said to him during her pregnancy that she thought the two of them would've had cute children together. It wasn't his grades, because Rachel said she had loved tutoring him throughout their entire relationship. And it wasn't the fact that he was on the football team, because both of them had loved it.

So what…? His hand palmed his abdomen through the thin material of his sweatshirt, and suddenly a feeling of nausea washed over him. His body. He pinched at nonexistent flabs of skin, feeling revolted. What girl would want to hook up with a guy that has more rolls than the Pillsbury Dough Boy? Of course they would look…_ elsewhere. _No wonder; if he couldn't even keep the perfect body, then how was he supposed to be perfect in everything else he did? He couldn't even succeed at the one thing that was solely dependent on him.

Despite the fact that his legs were cramped beyond belief, his head pounding with step, his shirt soaked and clinging to his body – he slammed the speed on the treadmill up another level. He'd show them. He'd show them all. Finn Hudson would achieve perfection, and he'd show Rachel that maybe she was the one who was wrong. All he needed to do was change how he looked.

He hit the treadmill up to the next speed and just sprinted ahead toward the future him…

* * *

When Finn opened his eyes, the first thing he caught was the harsh odor of salt. With a lurch, his stomach protested, and he knew he was in the trainer's room. As he continued to look around more, though, he saw that he was lying on his side on the overstuffed red plastic cot, an open pack of smelling salts lying next to his face. Without a second thought, he sat up quickly, or at least tried to. His head suddenly felt like it was collapsing in on itself underwater, and he sank listlessly back onto the cot.

The only thing was – he couldn't remember how the fuck he ended up in here.

"Hey, how're you feeling? You're not like going to throw up or anything, right? I don't know if I can handle puke…" the voice said from the door. Despite the pain in his head protesting, Finn rolled over to find Sam leaning against the frame, an unreadable expression on his pale face and dressed in a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt.

"What…" Finn muttered exasperatedly, as his neck suddenly seemed too weak to support his head, which dropped back down onto the cot. The packets of salt were sent flying onto the floor in disarray as Sam walked silently into the room, placing an ice bag onto a spot on Finn's forehead he didn't even knew hurt until now. He winced under the ice, watching as Sam sat down at the end of the cot.

"I was in the locker room, when I heard this loud crash coming from the gym. When I went inside, dude, you were passed out at the base of the treadmill with a huge gash on your head… I'm no Boy Scout, but I did what I could," Sam explained, fiddling with the hem of his sweatshirt. He turned away from Finn, seemingly very taken with something on the opposing wall.

It was then that Finn could finally understand the expression on his face – it was fear. Slowly propping himself up on one shoulder, Finn watched Sam, who was still refusing to look at him in the eyes. It didn't make any sense. He had known that Sam wasn't exactly the smoothest guy in the school. Subtlety clearly wasn't a strong point of his. But this might've been a new low for him in that area.

"Why were you in the locker room at seven o'clock at night?" Finn asked quietly.

Sam laughed sharply. "The better question is why were you on the treadmill at seven o'clock at night? And running at twelve miles an hour?"

Trying again to push himself into a sitting position, a wave of dizziness rushed over him. He let out a hiss, which caught Sam's attention. Getting to his feet, he walked behind Finn without a word. Softly, he wrapped one arm around his shoulders and the other pressed onto his waist, to where he guided him upwards. When he was sitting back at Finn's feet, he turned to face him. "So what the hell were you doing here at night, alone, running on the treadmill at a ridiculous speed for someone of our athletic ability? It seems pretty weird if you ask me…"

Finn smiled at that before realizing that it actually was really weird, and also because he had forgotten why he was upset in the first place until now. Rachel had won after all. Not only could he not keep her, but he couldn't show her that he was better off without her. He couldn't even run on a treadmill without collapsing. She was better off without him. No wonder his girlfriend always ran to Puck; he had everything that Finn didn't. A sculpted physique, a six pack to die for, everything…

Though, Puck couldn't even keep Quinn happy; Finn's eyes darted to Sam, who was still watching him carefully. Sam, with his perfectly sculpted muscles, his no-fat body, his six-pack that could rival Mike Chang's... There was no way someone who was clearly the second coming of Adonis himself could identify with Finn's problem.

"Just trying to get in shape, you know. Work off some weight, gain some more muscle… all that," Finn mumbled, swinging his feet over the side of the cot. He grabbed at his sweatshirt lying on the back of the desk chair, suddenly feeling smothered. This was the _last_ person who would ever understand what he was going through at this time. He couldn't tell Sam what was going on. He just – he just needed to get out of here.

"Whoa, hey, slow down. I may spend all of health class playing hangman with Artie, but I'm pretty sure you shouldn't be driving with a head injury. If you're going to freak out and not talk to me, at least let me drive you home," Sam asked him, Finn taking note of the tinge of hurt that was coloring his voice now.

With a sigh, Finn leaned back against the wall, shutting his eyes. "If I told you that this was because of my horrible taste in chicks, would that help to clear things up?" Instead of looking at him like he was completely insane, Sam just cocked his head to the left in curiosity.

"Explain."

He rolled his shoulders, desperate to alleviate the tension in them. With a sigh, he tipped his head backward, resting it against the wall. "Haven't you noticed? Quinn and Rachel may seem like great girls, and trust me – I couldn't be happier that you're dating Quinn, and I thought that I had found the love of my life with Rachel – but those two are body worship whores. And it's clear that I don't have what they want, as with each time I've broken up, they leave me for Puck. He's better looking than me, stronger, better bodied, whatever…" Finn muttered, Cracking a slight smile, he turned to Sam. "I'd keep an eye out for Rachel setting her sights on you."

He had expected a laugh from Sam on that one, or at least a smile, but all the blond boy did was drop his head. From where he was sitting, Finn could practically feel the dread radiating from him. "Dude, what's the matter? You went from Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind to Little Miss Sunshine in like three seconds…" Seriously, if Sam didn't crack a _smirk_ at that one, someone must've died or something.

"Quinn dumped me."

Oh.

"What? But I don't – but you – the promise ring?" Finn spluttered, taking the ice pack off his head, letting it rest in his palms.

"She said she thought she had been ready to handle a full-time, committed relationship after the baby, but as things became more serious, she realized that she still had a lot of issues she needed to resolve. So she returned the ring and said that I'd always have her heart… whatever that means," Sam said, rolling his eyes. As he dropped his head into his hands, closing his eyes, he sighed. "I came here tonight… looking for you. If anyone could even _relate_ to what I'm going through, man, it's you."

Finn could hear the exhaustion ringing through the blond-haired boy's voice. It was so familiar, it made his heart ache for him. He had been through everything that Sam had; he was there, he understood. Quinn was amazing and thrilling and crazywonderful and just everything a guy thought he'd ever need in life. To have that all pulled out from underneath – it was earth-shattering.

"Dude, not like I'm an expert on this, but she really loved you. More than she ever loved me. This break-up – you two can get past it. Just give it some time," Finn started, even though that he never figured that this night would've ended up with him having to give relationship advice while he was in dire need of some.

Slightly lifting his head enough to look at Finn, Sam was frowning as he whispered "What if I don't want that?" Finn blanked, wondering if he had actually heard him right. When he didn't respond, Sam let out a growl, pushing himself to his feet. Tugging at his hair, his lips were set in a thin line; his eyes dark with aggravation. "Look, I thought I loved Quinn. She was the first girl I've had a serious relationship with, and it _was_ great. But if she can't see that, why should I hang on?" Sam exhaled, seeming to let go of all the negativity he was holding. With a slump of his shoulders, the tense rigidity that had overtaken Sam's body dissolved into drooping despair. "What if I don't want to settle for a girl who thinks it's okay to play with my feelings and drag me along at her decision? What if I want something better for myself?"

Finn raised an eyebrow. It was hard to wrap his mind around the fact that yesterday Sam was head over heels, practically making heart-eyes at Quinn. And yet now he was doubting her entire personality and their relationship? What the fuck had gotten into him? "I don't get it man. You said you loved her all the time, and now you're talking about how you don't know if you do? What's the deal?"

Turning back to Finn, Sam threw his hands up in exasperation. "How do you do it man? How the fuck do you manage? You're perfect in like, _every _way possible, and yet –" If Finn wasn't so shocked by the words that were spilling so effortlessly out of Sam's lips, he would've sworn that he heard a quiver in his voice. "-you're perfect, and yet when everyone tries to break you, you still manage to get back up. How?"

Spluttering, Finn found that he was speechless. He wanted to come back with some Schuester-esque proverb of _'everyone is special in their own way_'or _'perfection is in the eye of the beholder'_ or some bullshit garbage like that. But as his brain tried to form coherent thoughts, all he could think of was the fact that Sam Evans – resident burlyman extraordinaire himself, on the way to taking Finn's place as the most popular guy in McKinley – had just told him he was perfect.

As Finn opened his mouth to say something, he stopped, seeing the way Sam was now looking at him. Or, more appropriately, his mouth. It was strange, because no matter how many times a person can think of hypothetical situations, none of it really matters until the situation actually became part of reality. So as Finn felt something tugging at his belly, something that reminded him of flames lapping at his insides. The heat unfurled from within, a warm blossom slowly expanding in his chest.

The kiss wasn't like anything he'd ever experienced before. Sam took long strides, cross the room in seconds before wrapping his hands under Finn's jaw in an aggressively gentle way. It wasn't soft and sweet and demure. There was no need for hugging or for anyone to annoyingly run their hands through Finn's hair. It didn't taste like the stickiness of fruit-flavored lip gloss. It was different, but not in a bad way. Their teeth collided at first, almost causing to Sam to pull away. But Finn surprisingly held on, and he couldn't place his finger on _why_, but for the first time in a long time, this kiss felt natural. There was no Quinn ordering him to keep his hands to himself or telling him to 'kiss her like this'. There was no Rachel constantly asking him if she was performing adequately enough. It was…a kiss; one that was stripped down to its barest roots – full of emotion and passion and desire and need.

It left him wanting more.

The fact that Sam was digging his fingernails into Finn's shoulder, whispers and kisses littered hotly against his throat, the descent from vertical to horizontal happening quickly on the cot left Finn wondering – was this the way it always should've been? Feeling the blood rush southward, he pulled Sam closer, breathing in the subtle mix of mouthwash and cologne.

So maybe he wasn't perfect. But then again, maybe he didn't need to be perfect in everything he did. Clearly he was one of Mr. Schue's favorites in glee club, and he knew he had a good voice. Getting better grades wasn't going to get him Quinn or Rachel back. Burt, Kurt, his mom – they all loved him no matter what he did; granted that it wasn't illegal or anything…

And then there was the whole football - perfect body issue. It may not have been the easiest thing to resolve, and his position as quarterback wasn't always going to be guaranteed to him. But as he felt Sam smile against _his_ lips, _his_ name falling out just soft enough for both of them, he finally realized. _This_ was what got his blood pumping. This was a challenge; a survival of the fittest.

And Finn was never one to turn his back on a competition.


End file.
